The whole pitch went quiet when I walked through the gate, 30-odd wolves stopping mid-stretch, mid-conversation, mid-everything, every head turning at once like someone had hit pause on the entire training ground.
Tomáš broke it first, jogging over with a grin he’d clearly been saving all morning for exactly this moment.
“There he is.
Captain’s mate, returning hero, walking slightly funny—” “Shut up.” “I didn’t— I didn’t say anything about the walking.
You said that.” “You were thinking it.” “I’m— I’m always thinking it, mate.
That’s not new information.” A few of the older wolves nodded at me as I passed, and one of the centre-backs clapped me on the shoulder without breaking stride, the most words he’d said to me in 5 days without actually saying any.
“Aldric,” I said, when he was already three steps past me.
“I never even got your name right till just now.” “You still haven’t,” he called back, not stopping.
“It’s Aldwin.” “Comforting that I’ve been wrong this whole time.” “You’ll learn.” Henrik had us running possession drills inside the centre circle, eight-on-two, and I got pulled into the middle twice in the first 10 minutes, every pass coming at me half a beat slower than usual, the whole squad quietly going easy on me without anyone actually saying so out loud.
“Stop that,” I said, the 3rd time someone rolled a pass instead of driving it.
“Stop what?” said the nearest winger, not even looking guilty about it.
“You know what.
I’m not made of glass.” “Could’ve fooled us.
You were limping earlier.” “I will end every single one of you.” “Can’t— can’t,” the winger said, already jogging backward toward his position.
“You’re contractually obligated to keep us all employed now.
Captain’s mate privileges.” “That’s not how any of this works.” “It’s exactly how this works.
Ask Henrik.” “So,” Tomáš said, falling into step beside me as the squad started drifting toward the warm-up cones.
“Saturday.
You ready?” “Not even slightly.” “Lina says the— the catering committee’s already arguing about flowers.
Apparently nobody’s run a claiming ceremony in 11 years, so everyone’s just…
making the protocol up as they go.” “Comforting.” “You’ll— you’ll be fine.
Damjan’ll be unbearable and sentimental for one day, then go back to being terrifying, and everyone’ll cry, and it’ll be over by dinner.” “Has anyone heard anything else?
About Eisenwald, I mean.
Gregor.” Tomáš’s easy grin dropped half a degree.
“Nothing— nothing concrete.
Henrik’s had two closed-door calls this week nobody’s supposed to know about, which obviously means everyone knows about them.” “Great.” “It’ll be fine.
Probably.
Mostly fine.” “You keep adding qualifiers to that sentence, and it’s not making me feel better.” “That’s— that’s ’cause I’m not actually sure it’ll be fine.
I just didn’t want to say that part out loud.” “You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who’s never done this.” “I— I haven’t.
I’ve just watched enough of them happen.” He glanced sideways at me, then added, “Speaking of— of people who should probably know things before Saturday, have you told your mum yet?” That hit me right in the chest, exactly where it was supposed to.
“No.” “Nico…” “I know.” “She’s— she’s gonna hear it from somebody eventually.
Better you than the group chat.” “There’s a group chat for this?” “There’s— there’s a group chat for everything, mate.
Don’t change the subject.” “I’m not— I’m not changing the subject, I’m just pointing out that there’s apparently a group chat I’m not in, discussing my entire life, and that feels relevant.” “You’re changing the subject.” “A little, yeah.” “Call— call her, Nico.
Today.
Before someone else’s mum tells her at the school gates or whatever it is mums do.” “She doesn’t have a kid at school anymore, Tomáš.
I’m 22.” “You know what I mean.” I didn’t have a good answer for that, so I didn’t try to give him one, and we ran the rest of the session without talking about it again, which didn’t stop me from thinking about it for every single one of the 90 minutes.
I found an empty corner of the equipment shed after, phone in my hand for a good 10 minutes before I actually pressed call, thumb hovering over her name like it might press itself if I waited long enough.
She picked up on the 3rd ring.
“Nico!
I was just about to call you, actually, your auntie’s already asking about Christmas, can you believe—” “Mum.
I— I need to tell you something, and I need you to not hang up before I finish.” A pause, longer than her usual pauses, the kind I’d learned over 22 years meant she’d already heard something in my voice she didn’t like.
“Okay,” she said, slower now.
“I’m listening.” “There’s— there’s two things, and I need you to hear both before you say anything.
The first one’s gonna sound mental.
The second one’s gonna sound worse.” “Nico, you’re scaring me.” “I know.
I’m sorry.
Here goes.” I took a breath that didn’t actually help with anything.
“I’m— I’m a werewolf, Mum.
Have been my whole life, apparently, I just didn’t know it till this week.” Silence on the line, heavy enough to feel through the phone.
“You’re…
is this a joke?
Is this one of your jokes?” “It’s not a joke.
I wish it was a joke.” “Wait.” Her pause was sharper this time.
“Just— wait a second.
Are you safe?
Is this dangerous?
Should I be doing something right now?” “I’m safe, Mum.
I promise.
It’s actually—” I almost laughed, which felt insane given everything else happening in this conversation.
“It’s actually been good.
Mostly.
Once I got used to it.” “Once you got used to being a werewolf?” “Yeah.” “Right.
Okay.
Right.” A long breath on her end of the line.
“And the second thing?” “There’s a man.
My captain, actually.
We’re—” My voice gave out right at the part that mattered most.
“You’re what, love?
Nico.
Talk to me.” “We’re—” I tried again, and again it caught in the same place, my own mouth refusing to commit to the word before I did.
I didn’t answer straight away either, the word sitting right there on my tongue, 3 days away from being true in front of 300 witnesses whether I managed to say it now or not.